“Kitty is very gifted,” Elizabeth explained. Everyone clearly agreed, and Kitty looked extremely pleased but also shocked to be given so much approval.
“Miss Lydia, would you do us the honour?” Fitzwilliam requested.
With her usual assurance of manner but unusual, for her, humility, Lydia said, “I am afraid mine is not nearly as artistic as my sisters,’” but she turned hers around and walked about the circle to better display it.
“Oh, my, you have drawn my gown perfectly,” Georgiana said. “Even the texture of the fabric! And you have included every detail of the lace and trim.”
“Yes!” Jane breathed. “You are amazing, too, Lydia.”
Nobody mentioned Lydia’s portrait being very like Georgiana, because Lydia’s portrait barely outlined Georgiana’sarms and merely suggested her hair—and she had chosen to depict Georgiana turning her head so that only the tip of her nose showed beyond the subtly rendered curve of a cheek. It was not, in fact, a portrait of Georgiana, only a fashion-plate sketch of her gown.
But when Lydia returned to her original spot, everyone applauded loud and long.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on the portrait crafted by Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”
Elizabeth turned her sketchbook around, blushing at the reverent tone her intended had used.
She did not know what to expect, but Elizabeth’s drawing immediately drew surprised gasps, laughs, and spontaneous applause that seemed even louder than that offered for Kitty’s splendid portrait.
Like Kitty’s, Elizabeth’s sketch filled the page—but she had captured several of Georgiana’s silly poses in pencil strokes that seemed to emerge from a swirl of skirts at the bottom of the paper. Each of the figures rising from that swirl wore a very different expression—but each visage had been displayed by Georgiana in her light-hearted posing.
Georgiana interrupted her laughter to gasp out, “I am afraid, ladies, that my brother was quite right. I believe that Elizabeth has captured my essence much more fully, despite the evident mastery each of you has displayed, as well.”
Everyone in the room voiced their agreement in a babble that caused Elizabeth’s father to make a rare appearance in the parlour. “What goes on here?” he asked.
Fitzwilliam said, “We have held a portrait contest of sorts. Would you care to enter your vote?”
Elizabeth thought that her papa looked pleased to be asked, but he shook his head and stated, “They each have a certainbrilliance. I am…quite shocked…that my daughters managed to do so well.”
“We had a very good teacher, Papa,” Elizabeth declared.
“Teacher?” he asked, as if he had no idea that four of his daughters had enjoyed weekly lessons for more than a year.
Elizabeth shook her head over his myopia. But she was proud of her sisters. Lydia’s boastful attitude at her unexpected announcement that the drawings would become the object of a competition had made her nervous, for she had been certain that Kitty would win—she had the raw talent and worked as hard as the rest of them to cultivate her gift. But Lydia’s attitude in the face of others’ successes had been very good-natured, and she was ashamed, really, that she had expected so little from her.
Suddenly Elizabeth noticed Jane, who looked as if she was attempting to collapse into a smaller version of herself. “Jane, are you well?” she whispered as she approached her elder sister.
“I am quite well, thank you,” she replied.
But she still looked odd. Not upset, not shy—perhaps it was best expressed as somehow diminished. Elizabeth began to suspect….
But her thought did not have time to complete itself before Mr Bingley stepped even closer to Jane and grasped both of her hands. “You do not suppose that I require a wife who knows how to sketch, do you?”
Elizabeth felt several things at once. She was happy to see that Mr Bingley’s words instantly cheered Jane; although she was not one to grin, Jane visibly relaxed, and her serene mien no longer looked strained. Elizabeth also felt satisfied that she had guessed what was bothering Jane—but she felt even more satisfied that her sister’s intended understood her so well. She squeezed Jane’s hands and said, “I have a feeling that we willall be writing to Kitty, asking her to come sketch our children’s faces. She caught Georgiana’s likeness so well, did she not?”
“Perfectly!” Jane said.
The folks from Netherfield Park stayed a few more minutes, and although Elizabeth never had even a moment with Fitzwilliam alone, she had expected that and was comforted by the fact that she only had one more day to be Elizabeth Bennet—and then she would be setting off on a life-changing adventure.
Thirteen
The last day of Elizabeth as a Bennet promised to be busy, and she was intensely grateful for it. All of her sisters helped her pack—including Georgiana, who had arrived early, as arranged the evening before. Because she had received two new gowns, she was able to give two of her oldest dresses to Kitty—who was the only sister as short as she—and there was some happy chatter about what she could do to update them.
Georgiana listened to the others planning to remake bonnets and make over dresses with wide eyes and admiration. Finally, Elizabeth grinned at her and said, “I imagine you have never made over anything?”
Georgiana shook her head. She had no sisters to provide cast-offs nor to give her own, but also she had a much more extensive wardrobe. She said, “It does sound so creative, and maybe even fun.”
“It is fun,” Lydia confirmed, “but not as much fun as purchasing new bonnets and ordering brand new gowns.”
